Ending Things
by StuckInThePast
Summary: John and Anna face a horrible new lifestyle when they are caught together by Mrs Hughes.
1. Chapter 1

So, this is a bit of a random idea that struck me today as I was playing Tetris. And, since I had a day of laziness planned, this is born! I don't know yet how long it will be, but my plan at the moment covers... *checks* thirteen chapters. But I'm appalling at sticking to the plan! Anyway, I'll shut up now. The usual disclaimer; I don't own Downton. Or John. Unfortunately.

**Ending Things**

They had been caught.

It had been months now, since John was set free, and since he finally gave himself to Anna. They had kept their secret for two months, twenty days, six hours. He could always say, to the hour, nearly to the minute, how long it had been since they made themselves this secret, and he knew how she loved that. But, eventually, they had slipped up. One stolen kiss too many, sneaking out to the yard too close together, and they had been seen. By Mrs Hughes.

And now they stood in silence, side by side and not close enough, in Mr Carson's pantry, answering questions nervously and trying not to get themselves into any more trouble. John had never felt lower, nor more alone. Every atom of him longed to just take Anna's hand, she was obviously as distressed as he was and he only wished he could comfort her in some small way. But they were just that little bit too far apart, and they'd be seen. They hadn't wanted to provoke any further anger. They couldn't make things worse.

"And how long has this been going on?" Mrs Hughes demanded, forcing him from his thoughts. He let Anna answer, something too specific, he was certain, would do more against them than for them. They hadn't been where they were supposed to be, at the time.

"A couple of months," Anna said, quietly, her voice a little hoarse. John risked a sideways glance in her direction – she was very pale, shaking just a little, and her eyes fixed firmly on the floor. Mr Carson cleared his throat, and John's eyes shot back into position, staring at a point low down on the far wall.

"That isn't relatively long," John heard him say in an undertone to Mrs Hughes, and he felt his heart surge. What did that mean? What did all this mean, for him and Anna?

"You didn't feel it was necessary to tell us?" Mrs Hughes asked, apparently moving past Mr Carson's comment.

"We couldn't afford to marry within the next year at least. We decided to wait until nearer the time," John explained, hoping that it wasn't too unacceptable a reason. They couldn't have had an engagement in the open for that long, people would start asking questions, would completely scrutinise their every move. It made sense.

"Well," Mr Carson said firmly, after a moment, "you've been cooperative. And this doesn't seem to have affected your work, so you're going to be given a choice."

John didn't like the sound of that, but he braced himself and felt Anna doing the same beside him. At least they had something, anyway.

"There is a condition on which you can keep your positions here, if you choose to," Mr Carson continued, "and that is that you end this entanglement at once."

It was like a shockwave flooding through his body. End it! End everything with Anna and go back to being her friend, just her friend. Could he do that? He couldn't imagine life without Anna sharing it. But he had nowhere else to go, he couldn't let her lose her job. Nobody would take her on, with a reason like this for leaving here. He couldn't be without her but he couldn't see her ruined.

"But we can't possibly-"

It was Anna speaking up, and he had to step in quickly. "Can we have some time to talk about this?" he said smoothly, not pretending the ultimatum hadn't upset him but not . He felt Anna turn to face him, he looked at her and saw the anger and betrayal in her face. _Oh, Anna, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry._

"Take as much time as you need," Mrs Hughes said, her tone a little softer. John nodded, meeting her eyes for a moment to express his thanks, and led Anna out the door and straight for their yard.

"John Bates," she said, as soon as it was certain that they really were alone. Her tone was dark, her expression furious, and it sent chills down his spine. "You had better have a very good explanation for even considering this."

"I do," he said, quietly, and took her by the arm to lead her towards a stack of crates. She flinched at his touch, but didn't pull away.

When they were seated and settled, he spoke again, taking her hand between his two. "Anna, you know I love you, don't you? Tell me that you know how much I love you."

"I do know," she said, looking a little confused but not much less angry. "Do you think that makes this any better?"

"Just let me finish," he said, perhaps a little more sharply than he intended. He paused, softening his tone when he continued. "I love you, so much more than I knew was possible, and the idea of being without you frankly terrifies me. I don't know that I can handle it. But there are things we have to consider." He held up a hand when he saw her open her mouth to protest, momentarily silencing her. "If we left here, where would we go? What would we do? Nobody would take us on with this stain on the records. You have nobody else to give you a reference, I have a bad enough record as it is. We can't marry on nothing, we can't live on nothing. If we went away, we'd still be forced apart. There's no option other than for us to stay here."

He stopped, making it clear that for now, at least, he was done. She withdrew her hand sharply, furious. "You're telling me that you are willing to end everything we have, everything we've ever hoped for? We made so many plans, John! We had such a future! And you're giving that up – for a _job_?"

"You're not listening," he began, but suddenly it didn't seem the wisest thing for him to say, when her flat hand connected with his face, making a sharp, enormous sound that echoed all around them and rang in his ears. He stopped a moment, stunned, and then he grabbed at her hands to keep them still, trying to meet her eyes. She turned her face away so that he couldn't, struggling against his firm hold.

"You promised me you'd never end this," she said, anger in her tone and fury obviously running through her body. There were tears in her voice. "I can't believe you could break that promise!"

"I am not ending this, Anna! I can't live without you and I don't intend to try it. Don't you see that there's very little we can do here! I am saying that maybe we stay here. We tell them that we're ending our entanglement, as they put it, and we go on working as we have done. It will take hard work and a lot of acting but we stay together, and then maybe two years from now we get married and we leave all this behind." He released her wrists, seeing that she wasn't going to fight him, and he reached for her face, turning her to look at him. Her face was red with crying, and she wiped at it forcefully, trying to get rid of her tears. "Anna, I need you so much, and this is the only way. Please."

He waited as she appeared to consider, the silence punctuated by sniffles for a full three minutes before she spoke.

"It would be so hard," she said slowly. "We couldn't sneak out together. I'd have to pretend to be angry with you all the time, and you'd have to pretend to feel like it was deserved. We'd have to avoid each other, we probably couldn't even talk much. If they suggested that one of us take work somewhere else, we might have to be separated for months. We couldn't even write; they'd recognise the handwriting. Do you realise just how hard this could be?"

"Yes," John said firmly. "Yes, it's going to be horribly hard. But it can't be worse than not having each other at all."

"Alright," Anna said, holding his eyes in place and not betraying any kind of emotion. "Stand up, John."

They rose together. She looked him in the eye, and she slapped him forcefully. "Mr Bates, don't you ever make me think this is ending again," she snapped, shaking her hand to get rid of the sting – John had no such luxury. Then she brought her hand to his face again, the other side, and softer. She pulled him towards her and she kissed him deeply, exploring his mouth in new ways that excited him more than he could have thought possible. As they parted, she rested her forehead against his, keeping him in place. John saw that she was crying again, and found to his surprise that he was, too.

Her breath was hot and perfect against his face as she spoke in a hoarse whisper. "Don't you ever end this, John."


	2. Chapter 2

Okay, I meant to say this in the last chapter - for argument's sake, this is set after the war. At the moment, it's 1919. There won't be much of current affairs involved, I don't think, but the war doesn't have a place in this fic.

This is a bit of a filler chapter I'm afraid, just getting the whole process underway, but there shouldn't be too many of these! Plenty of angst and mush in store, I assure you!

Thank you all for the lovely reviews, alerts and favourites! They are so much appreciated! :D

**Chapter 2**

Dinner, now, was so difficult.

He had to pretend to be avoiding Anna and pretending not to. It was painful in more ways than he'd imagined were possible. He'd thought he'd known what he was saying, that last night in the yard. He'd been so sure, certain that they could do it. But here he had to sit beside her in awkward silence and pretend that it was too great a pain to ask her for the salt.

He couldn't even risk taking her hand under the table, now that Mr Carson and Mrs Hughes knew about them they had to be so careful, all the time. He missed the sensation of her skin against his. This was worse than either of the two blazing arguments they had had, when he had feared losing her. It was harder than loving her, and thinking she loved him, and not being able to do a damn thing about it. He couldn't even talk to her, share some tale or joke or difficulty. He missed her voice and he missed her beautiful laugh. This was so, so hard.

His foot tucked itself around her ankle, desperate for some contact, even as they sat as far apart as they could without drawing too much attention. He felt her gasp softly beside him, and her foot curled against his. It was the nearest they could get to holding hands, to holding one another, and it wasn't anything like enough. But it had to be.

He took his chance when she was distracted by some comment from Ethel, and reached for his pocket. He hoped she would understand, and not be upset by it. He only wanted to tell her he loved her, still and always, and as he withdrew the note and dropped it swiftly into her pocket he felt certain she would understand the message. Three months, two days, eight hours. She would remember. And hopefully, she would smile.

Later, Anna's foot moved away, trailing very briefly against his leg before vanishing entirely. She stood up, offering him the briefest of glances before leaving. There were fewer people at the table now, dinner cleared away and most of the staff gone back to their work. John recognised Anna's look, of course. The others might think of it as nothing, but she was nearly speaking to him, with that look in her eyes. She wanted him to meet her, to go out to the yard and talk to her, kiss her and hold her as if nothing had changed. And he wanted nothing more than to gratify her. He needed her so badly.

But he couldn't do a thing. If they were seen there wouldn't be another chance. They'd be thrown out at once, no references, nothing. If they were seen everything they had would be destroyed. He couldn't go to her.

~o~

They had a chance, three days later, to stop for a moment and talk. Not a long moment, but long enough for Anna to turn and look at him in that way of hers and speak with pain in her voice.

"You didn't come," she said.

"I know."

Her voice was lowered, but there was no mistaking her anger. "That's it? You _know_? John, do you have any idea how much I needed you to come to me?"

There was a long silence as John tried to put together the right words, but Anna didn't wait. "Do you?" she snapped, too impatient to stand his dithering.

"Yes!" he hissed. "Yes, I know! And I needed to go to you. But I couldn't! I can't risk losing you altogether and if we were suspected we'd be out of here in a moment. I know how hard this is for you! I know how hard it is for me! But we have no choice!"

There was a silence, and John forced himself to be patient enough to wait for her. It was torment, he wanted to scream and shout and rant but just as he gave up on waiting, she opened her mouth to speak.

"You're right," she said quietly, dropping her head in acknowledgement and what looked like shame. It stung John terribly to think that he had made her ashamed.

"I'm sorry," he said, "I didn't mean to snap. It just... it is hard, isn't it?"

"Yes," she said, her voice breaking a little, and when she looked up at him he saw that there were tears in her eyes. "It's hard. But you..." she reached for his hand. He wanted to pull her close and kiss her right there, but he didn't dare. They had to escape this torment sooner or later, surely? "You," Anna continued, "make it a little less hard."

She went so far as to peck a kiss onto his cheek, whispering in his ear, "Three months."

And he knew that by that, she meant that she loved him, too.

~o~

He had avoided her. A little too much, in fact, afraid of what might happen, constantly afraid. She wouldn't say so, but he knew she found his fear difficult to live with. Who could blame her, he wasn't the easiest man to put up with as it was and him with worries could hardly be a walk in the park. He was making things very hard for her, all this had been his idea and he was beginning to regret it, regret pushing her into this. He had begged her to do it, and made her so unhappy. No wonder she got cross with him, no wonder she was so unhappy.

No wonder it felt so good to have her in his arms now.

"It's been two weeks," she said, "since you held me like this."

"It's been two weeks," he countered, "since I felt any peace."

"It's been two weeks since I've seen you smile."

"It's been two weeks since I've done this."

He lifted her jaw so that her face was tilted towards him, and he leant towards her. Who knew when they'd have another chance like this. He was going to make some new memories.


	3. Chapter 3

I'm sorry to have taken so long! One scene was a nightmare to write, and I had a random one-day job at the Burghley horse trials (which was so exhausting I went straight to bed at about half past eight), and then one thing after another just got in the way. Today, of course, I've been flailing at trailers for hours on end! Here you go, though, hot off the press!

Lots of angst here, I'm afraid that's going to be a recurring theme! Of course though, that is the best way, although I'm rather nervous of being lynched by you all half-way through!

**Chapter 3**

It had been some time now. Half their engagement, they had been living like this, hiding everything. In time it got easier, but always, increasingly, so much harder.

Slowly, they were able to climb back into some image of friendship. It was still awkward, of course it was. It had to be – after all, they were a former couple who had broken apart only a few months ago. But they could at least be friends now. John was able to ask Anna to pass the salt without drawing too much attention. They could even laugh together, sometimes. It wasn't enough, but it was something.

But it was nowhere near enough.

John folded the scrap of paper and stuffed it into his pocket. Five months, it said. Five months, one week and two days. It had been far too long since he'd told her he loved her. And even if these notes didn't seem to make her smile any more, he wasn't going to give up. He'd made life so much harder for her, he was going to do what he could to make it a little easier.

Anna, he knew, was in the servants' hall now, and he had business to be there as well – a box of collars that needed sorting. He hated the work, and normally put it off in favour of other jobs, but it was his only cause to get close to Anna.

When he got there she was the only one there, sat in her usual seat, with a telegram in her hand, and the sight of her shocked and scared him. There were tears of anguish pouring down her cheeks.

"Anna," he murmured, the note in his pocket completely forgotten, and she looked up. There was such despair in her eyes...

He moved around the table without a moment's hesitation, coming to a stop and squatting beside her, lifting a hand to wipe her tears away. "Anna, what's happened?"

She threw herself into his arms, clutching at his shirt and chest and back, sobbing into his shoulder. His arms automatically went around her, holding her in place and offering all the bewildered comfort he could, rubbing her back in what he wanted to be a soothing gesture, but only made her cry all the harder.

"John," she whispered when the tears finally subsided into a silence punctuated by sniffles, "he's gone."

"Who?" John pressed a kiss in her hair, rubbed at her back, searched for any way he could comfort her. "Who's gone?"

"My dad," she whispered, and burst into tears again. All John could do was curse himself, for not having the right words, for not being able to comfort her better. A fiancé should be able to help her more. All he could do was hold her and let her cling to him and cry.

And oh, how she cried. He even found himself in tears himself once, grieving for her grief. It pained him so to see her like this, to know that she suffered so badly and that there was nothing he could do to help her through it. He had to be only a friend. And Anna needed him to be more.

Eventually, she dried her eyes and pulled back. He had never seen her looking quite like this, her eyes so red and puffed and her cheeks broken by the harshness of her tears.

"I'm sorry," she murmured. Her voice was still very broken, but there were no subdued sobs, and he silently thanked God for it. He didn't want her to subdue anything. "I've ruined your jacket."

"None of that," he scolded softly, "you know it doesn't matter. I'm here for you... you do know that, don't you? I know that things are... difficult, but I am always here."

"I know," she said. She smiled a little, and wiped at her face again. "Thank you, John. You don't know what this means to me."

They were interrupted by the sound of Mr Carson clearing his throat.

~o~

"Mr Bates, I think you know why you're here. Would you care to explain?"

This time, John had done nothing wrong, not in any sense of the word. He looked Mr Carson in the eye as he responded. "Anna had just heard that her father had died. She needed a friend, and I was there."

Mr Carson looked as if he understood, or at least wanted to. But he only said, "Don't let that happen again."

John wanted so badly to refuse to comply with such a demand. Anna had needed him and even if they had finished with one another he would never have hesitated to comfort her for her father's loss, of course not. But they couldn't push their luck in this, they were already treading dangerous waters.

He let his head drop a little. "Yes, Mr Carson."

And that was that. Over the next few hours he found himself always being kept from her company and seeing her forced to turn to the younger maids for comfort. By the end of the day, he discovered, she had been sent home for a week.

That week was torture. Not having the unexpected touches and the shy smiles, the occasional conversation, not even the refreshment of her presence. He longed to just see her again, to hear her voice, and oh, to touch or even hold her would be pure bliss. He needed her so badly, and couldn't believe he was so selfish. But she needed him, too.

Just like she told him the day she got back. They managed to snatch half an hour, a short time of just the two of them and it had to be enough. But it was horrible.

"I miss you so much, John," she had said, wiping away tears as she spoke in such a way as compelled him to pull her into his arms. "It's so hard. I don't know if I can go on like this."

And oh, how that stung him. He promised her that they could do it, that they would do it, all in a blurred mess of promises. But he couldn't help wondering if he simply wasn't enough for her any more. Hadn't he failed to take care of her already?


	4. Chapter 4

Okay, so today my internet broke and I finally decided to catch up with this. With consistent self-prodding, not to mention SUNDAY, I should be able to get myself in gear. And also – please, please don't lynch me! An explanation is coming!

**Chapter 4**

He'd not been through this box yet.

Admittedly, that was the case with many of his mother's things. Most of them were still in storage in her house – his house, he reminded himself. He still couldn't quite believe that he had a house.

But this was a box she had wanted him to keep with him, and to use its contents as he would (he suspected that she was dropping some kind of hint there), and now he was going to look through and find out why.

It was filled with personal relics, he discovered as he tentatively lifted the lid. Inside, he found all sorts of treasures - trinket boxes, jewellery, expensive clothes, baby things, a beautiful, intricate mirror, and a very small box.

He opened the box, and inside was a beautiful, delicate engagement ring. He turned it over, studying it carefully and imagining it on her hand. Oh, yes. This would be perfect.

~o~

He'd gone to the village the next day, looking for a chain on which to string the ring. He found one that was perfect, slipped it into an envelope - marked "6 Months", as if he needed a reason to share this with Anna - and pocketed it, careful not to allow a single crease, before going downstairs to breakfast the next morning.

It was one of the best breakfasts he'd had in a long time. The "recovery" of his "friendship" with Anna was actually so far progressed that they could even laugh together without raising too many eyebrows. Now that was astonishing, but it was so, so wonderful.

Now she was grumbling lightheartedly, making some comment about how none of the maids seemed to appreciate the meaning of hard work any more. "I have to do it all myself these days, you know. I don't even get the cushions plumped up unless I tell them to do it."

"Carry on like this," he told her, laughing, "and you'll be straight for the housekeeper's position." He lowered his voice, "how many times have you heard Mrs Hughes say the same thing?"

What he didn't say was that she sounded just like her father. It had been a month now, and Anna's wound was still very much open. But he had been able to make a difference, and if there was a hollow quality to her laughter than at least she was laughing again. But these days, she always sounded just like her father.

"I'll have you know I'd make an excellent housekeeper," she scolded him, taking care that nobody else should hear - they were all certain to misunderstand and all that hassle didn't want starting again, not now they'd just about worked past it.

"I imagine you would," he agreed, "guarding that door like a hawk and scolding irreverent housemaids from dawn until dusk. Yes, I can imagine you liking that very much indeed."

She laughed - a beautiful sound, and rarer than he liked. John noticed that they were being observed, and was about to lift his voice just enough to be overheard saying something insignificant, they were interrupted, and that perfect moment gone.

He had achieved his goal, though. The envelope was in her apron pocket.

~o~

She came to him later - of course she did. Tonight, they had a chance, out on the yard, as hidden as possible. He waited for her, and she came, with that smile as wide and beautiful as the day he proposed. He couldn't see the ring, but the chain was just visible above her collar.

"It's beautiful," she said. He watched, mesmerised, as she lifted her hand to the back of her neck, slipping a finger inside the chain and pulling it out from her dress, contorting the chain so she could look at the ring again. "John, where on earth did you get this?"

"It was my mother's," he said, moving closer, until he was barely an inch away from her. "She would have wanted you to have it. It was in a box with baby clothes, I think that speaks for itself."

She laughed, her breath dancing on his face and coming close to driving him wild. "Your mother always did have great plans for us, didn't she? I wonder sometimes if you're only marrying me because she was always so persistent about it."

John chuckled warmly, shaking his head. "That's nonsense and you know it. Now, are you going to come here or not? It's been three weeks, I've missed you."

"I've been right alongside the whole time," she grumbled lightly, but she stepped into his arms and brought her lips straight onto his. Their mouths moved together to make room for the eloquent, raw dance of their tongues, every word or thought or feeling shared between them in the precious, precious moment. It was the nearest either of them could come to freedom, but for now it was near enough. It was still horribly hard, but John realised suddenly that, heaven forbid, he had grown used to the hardship.

He kissed Anna again, and when he saw the tears on her face he wiped them away, believing them to be tears of happiness. He kissed where the tears had been, and he held her close. It wasn't until he saw her shaking, felt his shirt dampening, and heard her broken sobs that he realised she would never grow used to this.

~o~

A week had passed. A week in which John's two notes both failed to bring a smile to Anna's face, and he was sure she was avoiding him. Could something have happened? Could someone have guessed, or had some fresh worry caught Anna off-guard? Was there anything John could do?

And today - today, he couldn't see the chain around her neck. He was certain he saw it at breakfast, and he could swear she kept lifting her hand to play with it before stopping herself. But now, at dinner, she wasn't wearing it at all. And fear flooded John's heart, what could she mean by it?

No, nonsense, he was being a fool. Just because he couldn't see the chain above her collar didn't mean she wasn't wearing it. And just because she wasn't wearing it didn't mean a thing. He was being a fool and there was nothing to worry about.

He excused himself early from dinner, all the same. He needed to think - after all, he had tried to catch her eye several times, only to have her avoid him altogether. Something must be going on.

When he undressed that night, he found the chain and the ring in his jacket pocket.


	5. Chapter 5

I said an explanation was coming. Muahaha.

**Chapter 5**

"Anna."

"Not now, John, please," Anna answered in a low voice, turning her back to him as she pretended to busy herself with her sewing. John watched her for a moment, weighing his options, and then moved around her, laying his hands on top of hers and covering her needle so that she couldn't ignore him.

"It has to be now. Anna, what's going on? You've not… changed your mind, have you?" But what if she had? What if all this was too much for her and this really was the end? No, no, of course that couldn't be it. Anna wouldn't do that to him. Would she? What did anything mean these days?

Anna withdrew her hands from his sharply, turning away. "We'll talk about this later."

John stepped back a little, her tone scaring him. She was holding back some great pain, and what that pain might be, he was afraid to think. But he wasn't backing down, not now.

He reached into his waistcoat pocket and withdrew the ring on its chain. He took a minute to untangle it, and then held it out to Anna.

"Please, take it back," he said.

"John-"

"Anna, please," he almost whispered, suddenly fighting back tears. He couldn't possibly begin to understand why she was acting like this, but he wouldn't show her just how hurt he was by it. Acting strangely or not, he knew his Anna and she'd hate the idea of having hurt him. But she finally met his eyes, and he knew she could see his tears. Her gaze softened, but only a little.

"Alright," she said quietly. "I'll take it. But John, we have to talk about this - later."

"I'll meet you tonight," he said, going to put the chain around her neck but instead placing it in her hand when he saw her flinch. She scrunched up the chain in her hand and dropped it into her apron pocket. And she left him there, a man bewildered and so, so afraid.

~o~

When they met on the yard that night, sitting a respectable distance apart (just in case), nothing was said for a long time. They just sat in silence, staring at one another and avoiding one another, until finally it all became too much.

"Anna," John said, and it was all he needed to say, because she suddenly seemed to wake up, sitting straighter and fixing her eyes directly on his.

"Do you remember the time you left me?"

John unlocked his eyes from hers, dropping his gaze to the ground. "All too clearly," he said quietly, the fear had become too much for him and he had given up on her, so long ago. Thank heaven they'd come through that, though it had taken such a long time to begin to make it up to her. He lifted his face to meet her eyes once more. "I've never been so miserable. It was horrible to see you as you were, I could never put you through something like that again, nor go through it myself. I was a fool…" he trailed off as her expression hardened, as if she were bracing herself.

"I didn't understand," she said. "I was so angry with you for giving up, for thinking that there was any trap we couldn't come through together. I thought you were so weak to run away." She laughed suddenly, a harsh, cold laugh that gave him chills. And reminded him of Vera. "I'm sorry for thinking that," she said, softening her tone a little, "because now I do understand. We're trapped like this, and maybe I'm a coward to do it, but I've got to get out of the trap. I can't live like this, John." There were tears in her voice and in her eyes, and that expression on her face meant she was holding them back. John didn't bother trying.

She was leaving him… Anna was leaving him. He'd never have imagined that she would, that she could; she had always been the one certain of their future and ready to go through anything so that they could stay together. She had taught him her lessons and refused to take him back before, but leave him? She never had.

What would he ever do without her?

"I can't live any other way," he told her, suddenly furious with the tears and wiping them away with a harsh, sweeping motion of his hand. "Perhaps I am weak, but I need you in my life - and I think you need me, too. Please, Anna, just try again."

"Do you have any idea how hard it is to live like this?" she demanded, anger and sadness fusing together in her tone. "I can't do it, John! I can't keep looking Mrs Hughes in the eye and telling her that I'm getting used to not being with you, when I am with you and I can never get used to this life! You're finding your feet and getting on with things and I can't, I just can't keep doing this for a kiss every few weeks and some far-off future! I need you now and I can't have you, so this has got to stop." She fell silent suddenly, and he realised that his mouth was hanging open.

"This is too hard, is it? A wife, a wife is fine, we can get past that just fine, but we need to wait and earn a bit more money and that's too hard for you? A few more months and we could get married, Anna! We've got a house now, don't you understand what that means? We could have that perfect life we've always wanted, you and me, together. It could happen in a few months! I want that more than I've ever wanted anything!" He paused for breath, and saw her opening her mouth to speak. No, she wasn't going to defend herself just yet. He wasn't anywhere near done, and he cut across her. "Isn't that what you said once? It's worth anything, you said. Did you even mean a word of that?"

She'd turned a threatening shade of red and glared furiously at him. "Do you think that for one moment I didn't? Do you think I've gone through all this with you just because there was nothing better coming along? I love you, John Bates, and I have always meant every word I said to you. But this is just too much. Maybe some day we can come together again, but for now, this is it. We just can't carry on like this. I'm sorry, but we can't."

"You mean, you can't," John muttered bitterly. He reached for his cane and got up, retreating away from her to find somewhere he could think, and somewhere he could let tears pour out. Nothing was ever going to be the same again.

* * *

><p>*hides*<p> 


	6. Chapter 6

Something of a filler chapter here, I'm afraid, just outlining a gap in time and transitioning. Nothing is mine, etc. etc., except for John's sisters, who exist only in my personal version of canon.

**Chapter 6**

It was the most horrible meal he'd ever had.

This time, it really _was_ difficult to ask Anna to pass the salt. This time, a sideways glance at her flooded him with despair, not resolution. She didn't want him. Or rather, she didn't want him enough. He'd never imagined that the day would come when she didn't want him enough. She had fought as much as he had to make this work. But if she chose not to have him, he couldn't force himself on her. He had to live apart from her, had to get used to living without the hope of a future with her.

There was no hope - none at all. His future had been hopeless before he knew her, when he was only going on for his mother's sake. Now she was gone, and Anna lost to him - he hadn't known that despair could become so great. He sometimes wondered what his place in the world could possibly be, now that he didn't have anyone to live for but himself. Was any of it worth it?

He wouldn't plan anything stupid, of course. He knew how many people that would hurt and no matter how great his own struggle, he would cause no further pain to Anna. She needed him to be out of her way for a while, maybe one day become her friend again, but to think that she had led him to do something would hurt her horribly, and he wouldn't do that. He loved her far too much for anything of that kind. And, of course, he had his sisters to think of, too. Harriet had just fallen pregnant, and he didn't want to allow anything to upset her when she had been ill so recently, and was under so much stress. Eliza and Margaret had problems enough of their own without having to deal with his, too. Anna was not his only reason to keep going, just his greatest.

"Mr Bates?" Anna's quiet voice penetrated his thoughts. He half-turned to her in surprise, following the way she glanced down to see her hand under the table, holding out the ring. He sighed, meeting her eyes for a moment with infinite sadness. Then he held his hand out for the ring. She closed his fingers around it and her hand lingered a moment before drawing away.

And suddenly everything was over.

~o~

John was walking down the corridor towards the servants' hall, silently praying that Anna wouldn't be there. He couldn't bear to see her again just yet. But that wasn't to be, she appeared coming out of Mrs Hughes' sitting room, and he didn't have the time to hide before she saw him. She looked like she'd had a hard time of it, and he longed to go and comfort her.

Mrs Hughes appeared suddenly, only popping her head out before briskly saying, "Mr Bates, there you are. I'd like a word."

It was much too late to hide, and whatever Mrs Hughes had to say, he'd no choice but to face it like a man. He allowed himself to sigh wearily before answering, "Certainly, Mrs Hughes," and follow her into that formidable room.

The door closed behind him in a very unnerving fashion, and they sat down. Every second increased the suspense for John, had Anna said something? Had somebody else? Perhaps… well, what choice did he have but to wait?

"I noticed that you and Anna have had some… communication issues, shall we say, of late," Mrs Hughes began, and John knew to be cautious. He didn't know what information she might have got out of Anna, and he would have to be so careful.

"I suppose so," he said, because it could hardly be denied that that was the case. "But it's not affecting my work, Mrs Hughes, and I can't speak for Anna but I don't doubt the same is true for her."

"I've no doubt," she said a little dryly. "But all the same, Mr Bates, it's very difficult for you both. Now, I spoke to Anna just now about the possibility of one of you finding work elsewhere, to make things easier."

John inhaled sharply. Go? Leave Anna behind and spend the rest of his life without having anything to do with her? He couldn't! Even as things were, he couldn't go! But, would she? What would he do, if she found it best to go away? And how would they explain themselves, if she chose to stay?

Apparently taking his silence as encouragement, Mrs Hughes continued. "Now, Anna doesn't want to go far from home at the moment. Her family is still coping with her father's death, of course, and she'd like to be with them. I'm sure you can understand that."

"Of course," John said, trying to evaluate what all this meant. Anna couldn't leave her family at this time, of course not. They had all relied on her father so much, and Anna was being their rock. It would have hurt her horribly to have to go away. But did this mean he was to be sent away? To be torn from Anna, when only he knew that she needed support herself? When only he, even now, after everything, was in a position to give it?

"But," Mrs Hughes continued, "Anna also expressed… concern, at the idea of your leaving. She was worried that you wouldn't be able to find work elsewhere, or something of that sort. I wanted to ask your opinion on the matter, because if you think it's necessary, we will offer all the assistance we can."

John exhaled slowly, taking in her words and trying to make sense of it. Lately he'd thought of Mrs Hughes, and Mr Carson for that matter, as cold and unfeeling. And it _was_ cruel of them to keep him and Anna apart, but there was a gentleness in Mrs Hughes' tone that surprised him. Maybe there was something more going on than he was aware of… But that was utterly and entirely besides the point.

"I'd like to stay, Mrs Hughes," he said carefully, meeting her eyes as he did so. "There's nothing else for me."

"Alright." Her voice was quiet, and he didn't understand. Then she lifted her tone to sound brusque and busy. "I hope, Mr Bates, that you'll work things out with Anna, then. It does cast a downer on the table to have both of you in silence."

Was she just amusing herself by confusing him? But he shook his head as he spoke. "Of course, Mrs Hughes. I'll talk to her tonight, I'm sure we can work something out."

"See that you do."


	7. Chapter 7

So, this has taken me forever. And if I don't get another done over the weekend it'll take me another forever because of NaNoWriMo, but I shall see. And also so, this is pretty pathetic, I sneaky-wrote this at work is my excuse. Sorry about that! :D

**Chapter 7**

There had been more awkward days than this; that was the best John could say on the matter. But they were communicating, and that was something. They sat at the servants' hall table, together in a manner but nothing like as close as they used to sit; both mending clothes and managing to chatter about little irrelevant things. One minute Anna brought up a book, the next John would make some comment about music, and they got on in that way until Anna breathed out in relief as she finished the last touches to Lady Sybil's torn skirt. "Finally," she said, "I don't know how she does it. Now I'm off to the village; I'll see you later, Mr Bates."

He missed the way she used to call him John. Oh, how he longed for his Anna. But this was an Anna who belonged to nobody but herself, and it wasn't quite the same. She seemed almost a different person. He missed her so sorely. And he was sure he couldn't forgive her for the hell of the past three months.

Anna left the room, and he watched her go with the familiarly painful mix of opposing emotions. They might have managed to claw back into some mockery of friendship, but it wasn't like how they were even in their early days, before they loved. Although...

He still observed her closer than he ought. He had begun with the intention of seeking out a sign that she might come back to him, but he had seen nothing, he had lost her for good. She was unhappy, but she wasn't coming back. And she had recovered in just the way they had pretended to. But lately, she had been behaving differently. There was a smile in her voice, a bounce in her step. And he feared what it might mean. He'd not seen her exactly like this before, but it put him in mind of something. The way she had been just after their engagement. This wasn't anything like that, he wasn't so distraught as to imagine that she hadn't loved him dearly, but she was happier than she'd been in a while, probably even since they had had to create the illusion of breaking their relationship down. Had she found someone?

And what business of his was it if she had, he reminded himself sharply. She wasn't his Anna any more, this Anna who wasn't his was so different to the woman he had loved. That was his only consolation, that the woman she had become was not his Anna. He reminded himself of that when he missed her most, that if she came to him now it wouldn't be right. But that was the point, it was no business of his if she had another man. Unless he hurt her, and then he would make it his business. But who could be so heartless as to hurt Anna?

This wasn't doing him any good, and he turned to the letter that he had put off reading while Anna was here. Now, he could escape this cruel world and into another, the world his sister was sending him as a more precious gift than he could possibly imagine.

_Dear John,_

_I have something to tell you, and something to ask you._

And already he was concerned. He'd never known Margaret to get straight to the point on anything before.

_I've told nobody about this except Carl, not even Eliza, but I do have reason for telling you first. I'm pregnant, and I need your help, if you'll give it._

_You see, what with Carl's illness, and managing the children we already have, I'm busy enough as it is. Another baby is going to make things difficult, and I've been thinking about what I could give up to make time for this next baby, and all that I can think of is the shop. And that, if you'll do it, is where you come in._

_Obviously we can't afford to give up the entire shop, even with Bess and Gertie in service. But what we'd like you to do is to take over the main management of the shop, and run it for us._

_I know things are hard for you at the moment, and I hope this will make it easier, but you mustn't feel like you have to accept. If there's any way you can work things out with your Anna then of course that must come first..._

Margaret went on to ramble about a few other things, as she always did, telling him insignificant little articles regarding her children, and hopes for her husband's recovery from the illness that had been afflicting him for several years now. But none of it sank in, now that she had reminded him of the difficulty with Anna.

Was there any hope of working everything back? Could she ever be convinced to come back to him, and more importantly, would she ever be truly happy with him? And if not, wouldn't it make it easier both for himself and Anna if they were separated?

~0~

"Mr Bates?"

John glanced up, and managed a small smile at the sight of Anna taking a seat beside him. Her voice sounded unnaturally nervous, and she looked worried as she settled into her chair and turned it to face him.

"There's something I think I ought to tell you... and I hope you'll forgive me for just blurting it out, but I'm afraid I'll lose my nerve if I don't do it now." She took a deep breath, giving him just enough time to be utterly bewildered before she said, "I've been walking out with somebody. Not for long yet, but I think it might go somewhere. And I know it's silly, but... I just thought you ought to know."

John tried to process the words, but for a long minute nothing seemed to make sense. He knew Anna was searching his face for some hint of what he might be feeling, but he felt nothing; he was numb, as if there was some barrier between himself and his emotions.

"Well, then..." he heard Anna saying, a trace of annoyance in her tone, "I'll leave you to it."

His hand shot out to grab her arm as she started to rise, and she dropped back into the seat almost too quickly.

"Who?" he said, his tone little more than a harsh whisper, as if her words had torn down that emotional barrier.

"Nobody you'd know," she said quickly. "Just one of the local farmers. His name's Andrew."

He nodded, almost faintly. "And you honestly like him?"

"I wouldn't be with him if I didn't," she said, with a little more of the familiar fire in her tone. It would have made him smile, if only she were still his.

John let go of her arm, and she stood up hesitantly, slowly making her way towards the door. "Anna," he said, and she paused, turning swiftly, some unidentifiable look in her eyes as she said, "Yes?"

"If he... if he hurts you, or he makes you unhappy, you'll tell me, won't you?"

She sighed half-heartedly. "I'll tell you," she promised, and then she was gone, and he was alone again. He wearily dropped his head in his hands, before heaving himself up from the table. He had better write to Margaret.


	8. Chapter 8

_Okay! NaNo is finished and my brain is somewhat recovered. However, after S2, my heart is not. Fifteen days until it is either shattered or repaired… I am therefore reconsidering my plan for the rest of this, so it might come across a little sketchy in places, depending on what I think my heart can take! But, in the meantime…_

**Chapter 8**

John had felt so uneasy this last week. He'd written to Margaret as soon as Anna told him about her Andrew, and posted it before he could rethink anything. And he still felt he was right. Even when he was with Anna, when she looked as if she were going to say something and then fell silent, he was sure it was right to make the move to Knaresborough and work on Carl's behalf, but he was so nervous. Anna had trusted him enough to tell him about Andrew, and he ought to do the same, and tell her this. But somehow he never quite dared.

The answer came soon enough from Carl, specifying when they would need him and a little more about the details of the work. Then it really hit John, that he would be going away, that he might never see Anna again, and as he sat back almost in shock, he nearly vowed not to do it. But that was foolish; he loved her too much to be near her every day without knowing she was his, it was killing him. There was only one thing he could do.

~o~

"Anna?"

Anna half jumped in her seat. "Oh – Mr Bates. I'm sorry, I didn't see you."

John noticed that she stuffed a letter very quickly into her apron pocket. Andrew, no doubt. A wave of bitterness swept over him, and he attempted at once to quench it. It didn't come easily, so he buried it, where he might wallow later on. "There's something I want to tell you, if I might," he said, getting straight to the point. Anna's curiosity would be piqued by that, she wouldn't let him drop it now, and he needed that to keep him from backing down.

She proved him right, settling into her seat and indicating the opposite for him, and he sat, hesitantly observing her in an attempt to gauge her mood. There was something a little tense about her today. He would have to be careful how he did this.

"The thing is," he said, taking another heavy breath, "you were honest with me, and you didn't have to be, and, well, I thought perhaps I owed you the same. I'm not telling anybody else about this yet, there won't be any need for a while, but I thought you should know…"

"Get to the point, Mr Bates," Anna said, and John couldn't help a small smile at the little reminder of the fire that had once burned for him. "Are you telling me you've got somebody else, too?" she demanded, and he could almost detect hostility in her tone. How dared she be hostile, when she had done that very thing?

"No, I'm not," he said quickly, and sharply, "I haven't." He knew the difference between real and false love if she didn't. He had had false love enough times and he didn't want to go near it again. For him, it was and always would be only Anna. No matter if he had to live in that love alone.

"Then what?"

If she'd only let him breathe before he spoke! Rather than butting in every time he took a moment, and storming at him with every passing second. What a nuisance she could be… how had he never noticed this before?

"Are you going to let me speak?" he demanded harshly, before coming to his senses at her look and softening his tone. "The thing is that this is getting too difficult. I don't…"

He broke off. He had been going to say that he didn't feel alive when he was with her and yet not truly _with_ her, but this wasn't about giving her floods of guilt to deal with and it wasn't about pouring out his pain. He'd spent months trying to learn to tell her things, and now he had to cram it all in and keep it tightly shut. He didn't want to hurt her more.

"I don't think it's sensible for me to stay here," he finished, feeling almost defeated. "My sister has asked me to move over to Knaresborough and help her husband run their shop, and I've accepted. I won't be going for a couple of months yet, but I thought… I suppose it was right that you should know. It is foolish."

"Yes," she said, and he looked up at her, trying to understand. Just what was she saying yes to? There was that look on her eye which said he couldn't expect an explanation, and he let his head droop a little. He would give anything to take back that stupid day when he said they could pretend. If he could only have looked to this day, he would never have interrupted her in the first place, he would have let her argue against Carson and Hughes and he would have gone away with her that very night. Why had he never foreseen that it wouldn't be so simple? He hated himself for it, suddenly, and with a bitterness that shocked him. He had always known he would despise the person who might tear him and Anna apart – he had never imagined it would be himself. Or her.

Did he hate her? Of course not! Never, he could never hate Anna. He was bitter, he knew he was foolishly and cruelly bitter, and now that the inherent sadness of losing her had begun to numb just a little, he found himself able to be angry with her for giving up, but he would never be able to stop loving her. But he did, somehow, resent her bitterly. How had he fallen back towards being this man?

"Excuse me," he said, and there was a thickness in his voice that choked the words so that they came out with a strangled tone. He didn't wait for her assent, but, leaving his work behind, he pressed himself up, leaning heavily on his cane, and got out of the servants' hall and upstairs as quickly as he could.

~o~

He had been forced to sit beside her at dinner again, as always, since they had to hide their problems. She had tried to talk to him a few times, but he had just managed to put her off with the shortest answers he could think up, and by wallowing in his own thoughts and feelings. Thank heaven he would be leaving soon. He couldn't take this much longer, he had to get away from her soon. He would write to Margaret again tonight, offer to come up a week or two early.

But when he went upstairs – excusing himself from dinner the minute he was able – he found a note in his pocket. It was in Anna's hand, but shakier than he had ever seen it. The paper was crumpled harshly, as if she had screwed it up a dozen times with rethinking. And there were damp spots just right for tears.

"Eight months", it read. What the hell was she playing at?


	9. Chapter 9

_This is what happens when I have a slow day at work… this is utter pants, but I'm no good at editing and we're out of coffee, so I'll probably be dead by the morning. Anyway, enjoy!_

**Chapter Nine**

John continued to avoid Anna for the next few days in just the same way. Now that he had allowed himself to feel angry at her, he found that the floodgates had opened. Hadn't she sworn never to give up on him? Hadn't she said they could face anything, and come through it together? It was all her own words. And she'd been right, too! They could have come through this. She didn't have to trample on his heart.

For all he loved her – and he did, of course, he always would – there were times, in the dead of night or alone on the yard or in the middle of luncheon, that he hated her.

And that note! He had yet to work out what she meant by that note, and the bizarre way she was behaving of late, and everything else that didn't seem to add up. She tried to speak to him whenever he was avoiding her; since their relationship ended she had always respected his need to be left alone at times, as he had hers. Now she near enough chased him around every corner. He tried not to notice, but he was sure she had started those little periods of crying again, when she would hide in an empty room or out on the grounds for ten minutes and come out fresh-faced as ever, with only that betraying look in her eyes to say that she had been crying. He just didn't understand it.

And then, on the third evening since her note, he was busily wallowing out in the yard and she cornered him.

"Mr Bates," she said firmly (although he detected the little wobble of her bottom lip that meant she was struggling to keep her composure), "I've been trying to talk to you."

"Yes," he said, quietly hoping he could get rid of her. "I've been trying not to talk to you."

She bit her lip. Trying hard to hold back, trying far too hard. The floodgates would burst open in a minute. Sometimes he despised how well he knew her.

"I know you got the note," she said. "And you know what I meant by it. Why are you still avoiding me?"

"Because I don't have a bloody clue what you meant by it," he snapped, then hesitated. That definitely wasn't the only reason he was avoiding her. But he wasn't going to explain his anger. She would only think he was covering up some deep pain. Well, guess what, Anna Smith, there is a deep pain. It's you.

"I meant that I'm sorry," she said, and he exhaled heavily, half rolling his eyes and turning away from her. Sorry didn't mean that much to him, these days. "I meant that I was wrong, that I should have thought it through and that I've never in my life regretted anything half so much as this. I gave up too soon. I promised you I'd never do that, and I did." She moved to sit beside him, and he flinched in order to stop her. She sighed and took a seat opposite him. "I am sorry, John. I love you."

There were tears on her cheeks now but he knew that the whole thing – the speech, at least – was all rehearsed. She'd practiced and practiced this, designed it in a hundred ways to make him –

To make him forgive her? Why? She'd made it clear she didn't want or need his approval to do what she would. And he had learned to accept that. Why now?

And then, somehow, he was reminded of his love for her.

He hadn't been trying to forgive her. But he preferred loving her over hating her, any time, no matter what she felt for him. He didn't want to hurt her.

"I will be able to forgive you," he said, "but not just yet. I'll get there."

She glanced at the floor, and he wondered if he had missed his mark.

"Does that mean you'll stay?"

Stay? Why would he stay? It would be so much easier to forgive Anna if she and Andrew weren't rubbed in his face every minute. "I don't think that would be wise."

"Oh..."

There was something in that which diverted his attention. "What is it?"

"You'll prefer not to know," she said harshly, and turned. He caught at her hand to stop her.

"Anna, tell me."

"I was hoping we might have another chance," she said, tugging her hand sharply from his. He stared at her, struggling to process the thoughts running through him. She wanted him back? Did that mean she really thought she could get through the hiding and everything after all, and live like that for however long it took? Suddenly it was acceptable to go through all that?

"What about your Andrew?" he choked out. He wasn't sure of this idea; he was going to make sure she meant it. He could hardly believe it of himself that he had learned to doubt her.

"That's nothing," she said. "Andrew is only a friend, he's been helping me make some decisions about the future, that's all."

"What kind of decisions?" He wanted to distract himself, and somehow it didn't matter that he knew it was a distraction. Anything to put the final decision off. They had both been hurt enough.

"Career decisions. If we marry we'll need to find work, and I can't carry on as a housemaid. I wanted to be sure that all this could work, that's all. And I think it can."

He didn't care about her ways and means, that they could deal with later. Now he only needed to understand. "Then why the bloody hell did you tell me you were walking out with him?"

"I had to know!" she cried in a sudden outburst. "I had to know if you still loved me, if there were any chance of your loving me. I hate being without you! I thought it was impossible living the way we were but that was nothing compared to this life! But I wasn't going to make things worse for you if you didn't still love me. I just wanted to be sure before I dragged all this up again."

"And you're sure now, are you?" He wasn't. Of course he loved her but he was still so damn angry. He didn't know if it would happen, if they would be able to work together after all they'd been through, but he loved her. It didn't make everything alright.

"I think so," she said quietly, and there was a hesitation in her voice that confused him. "I can't be sure, you've been so cryptic lately – but if anything is worth taking a chance on, this is."

"I see."

He nodded, and sighed heavily. There would be so much thinking to do now, so many hard decisions to make. What was he going to do?

"Excuse me," he said, and pushed up to go indoors. He couldn't think with her right there in front of him.

"John," she began, and he paused to hear her out. He missed the way she used to call him Mr Bates. 'John' didn't sit right somehow, not any more.

"Do you love me?"

He hesitated, and tried to think. He didn't want to upset her any more than necessary, for all he was angry with her. But he wouldn't lie to her.

"I'll let you know," he said, and walked away.


	10. Chapter 10

_Lame writer is lame. I have a long list of excuses, which include Christmas, New Year, church choiring, a novel I've just started working on, and the nomination season of the Highclere Awards. This is a shorty and written with midnight brain, so many apologies! Anyway, I've got one more week off work, this time with no siblings to interrupt, and there has been a huge and painful shortage of A/B fic of late, so I figured that instead of whining about it, I'd try and get back on top of this. :)_

**Chapter 10**

How much longer did he have to wait to talk to Anna? John had given her words so much thought over the last two days. He even had a decision. Yes, he was almost entirely certain of his decision, of his future. He had to do this right. He loved her.

But this was impossible! How was a man to tell her something like that if he could never get her alone? She wouldn't be so cruel as to show him what he had done to her deliberately, but he did understand it now. No wonder she had been so upset the other night, this was killing him. It must have been torture for her to live through it alone, to be treated… to be treated as he had treated her.

How dared he? He had been angry, yes, and even with good reason. She had hurt him badly, and he had a right to feel it. But she didn't have to feel the brunt of his anger. He had put her in such a difficult situation with their secret. He had borne it, but it had been so hard for her. And not only did she have that hardship to endure - seeing him manage it must have been awful, too. Had she doubted the strength of his love for her? Had she doubted what he felt, when he was all the while burying his feelings for her sake? She might have been wrong to act as she did in ending everything, but he had been wrong a dozen ways before that. They both had. There were things to talk through, choices to be made, but they could work it out. He loved her so much and he would not spend any more of his life without her.

But he could never seem to catch her alone!

So, eventually, he gave up on waiting, and that afternoon, he settled down in his bedroom to try and write.

_Anna,_

_As you may have guessed, I have spent the last two days…_

_Anna,_

_I have thought of nothing but you since we spoke, and I can't help but feel…_

_My dearest Anna…_

_Anna,_

_This has been the hardest decision I have ever had to make. It seems…_

_Anna,_

_I love you. I am an idiot and I wish we might…_

_Marry me…_

John sighed wearily as he threw yet another scrunched up sheet of paper at the bin. Why couldn't he do this? The right words just didn't come. He could do nothing to express to Anna what he felt. No, this would not work at all. Emotions and words did not match well for him. There would have to be another way to plead his case.

That night, he slipped the ring back into her pocket, taking care to brush his fingers against her in just the right way that she would notice without betraying anything. The next morning, at breakfast, he could see the chain against her neck. And now everything would be alright.

Mostly.


	11. Chapter 11

_Nearly there now. See, I'm starting to be nice again. Sort of._

**Chapter 11**

When he went out to the courtyard a day later she was already waiting for him. It was a danger now, more than ever, but they would come through it. Things were finally come together.

He took a seat beside her and found in seconds that her hand had slipped into his. He squeezed it affectionately, and kissed it. They could talk through their problems later; this was the time to be happy.

"I love you," she said.

"I love you," he answered. She kissed him, briefly, but with as much love on her lips as any deep, wild kiss.

"Let's never do that again."

"No," he agreed, chuckling a little, "We won't. I won't put you in that position again."

She glanced down briefly, and when she looked up at him there were tears hovering in her eyes. "I don't know if I can do all that again, but I'll try."

He hesitated; his suggestion might make things even harder than before. He hated putting her through this. But they had to do something.

"I've started to rent my mother's house," he said, "and there's a good income from it, which might make things so much easier. I've been thinking that maybe I should take the job with my brother-in-law. It will give me a home of my own and a better income than I have here."

"No," Anna said at once. "It would be too hard. I couldn't have you off in Knaresborough, it's too far."

"It is far," he admitted - he didn't like the distance either - "but I'd come and visit as often as I could, and if we really couldn't bear it then you could come, and stay with my sister until we married. But by this way I think we would be married and settled in no more than eight months."

He waited while Anna processed the idea. It had taken him a long time to digest what it would mean for them, and to think through how they would bear the separation. It had been so hard to get through it all last night - he was amazed at how quickly she reconciled herself to it.

"Don't go for a while yet," she said. "We need to make some better memories than we've had, for both our sakes. And then when you do go, we'll be ready for it, but… it's so long since we've been happy together."

From then on things were different between them. Every opportunity he had, he spoke to her, he enjoyed having time with her in any way he could. He made sure she did, too. They shared jokes and silly little games and every possible chance of touching that was possible between them. John had never been so happy, and Anna was constantly in a state of delight. Things really were beginning to look up in the most wonderful way.

There was one day when the family were hosting some big important dinner party, and so John and Anna were wrapped up in wild work all day, not getting five minutes to themselves even separately. But she came out to talk to him as he polished shoes, and they wound up laughing uncontrollably over a dozen little things. They were like old friends again.

Another time, it was Anna's half day and John had resigned himself to an afternoon of boredom. But his Lordship had a few things he needed and John happened to know where to get them, so he offered to go in place of Thomas, and when he spotted Anna he was what she later called unkind enough to take pleasure in startling her. He bought her tea at the little village shop and enjoyed a half hour in pleasant, relaxed conversation. Their days were ever dotted, now, with instances like that.

About a week after they made their decision, she pulled him into the courtyard when nobody was looking and kissed him with a deep kind of fervency.

"I've been a bit of a trial," she said with an embarrassed little smile, later, when they had exhausted themselves in each other. "I'm sorry."

He shook his head with a smile, countering her at once. "Don't be silly, I've been stupid and selfish and blind. But it's all done now."

Anna leaned over to give him a little peck of a kiss. "You've more than made up for your stupidity," she said. "It has made the world of difference. Thank you."

He laughed a little, embarrassed. He had a long way to go before he made up for what he'd put her through, but something in her manner told him that wasn't why they were here. "Anna, what's all this really about?"

She breathed in deeply, and took his hand. "You should go," she said. "Go to your sister's and help with the shop and build a life. And in a few months, I'll come, and we can get married. But don't let me hold you back from doing what you want to do."

"Anna…" John tried to process what she was saying, but he couldn't quite do it. "What happened to it being too hard?"

"It will be hard," she said. "But maybe if I stop trying to be miserable, or at least welcoming misery, I can get through it. I didn't exactly make it easy for myself when we were first hiding."

He had thought a dozen times that Anna ought to be stronger than she seemed. At least this made some sense. "Are you sure?" he said carefully, studying her expression for any sign of uncertainty. "Honestly, tell me. Are you really sure?"

"Certain," she said, and he kissed her at once, with a depth that allowed him to show her a great deal of what he felt.

"I love you," he said, and the smile she gave him was beautiful.

Three weeks later, he left for Knaresborough.


	12. Chapter 12

_Agh, I know, I know, I'm so lame. I may have even completely forgotten that I hadn't finished this. But now that I'm all caught up with most of my commitments, the Highclere Awards are finally underway (make sure to vote, by the way, if you haven't already) and I've had a bit less to get through this week, I was finally able to come back to this. Enjoy! _

**Chapter 12**

"Is it horribly hard?" John asked as they walked through the quiet Knaresborough park, arm in arm.

"Yes," Anna answered, giving him a little smile. "Of course it is. But I can bear it."

He kissed the top of her head in gratitude. She had stuck to her word, and this time around she faced everything with an attitude of such remarkable positivity that she had infinitely lightened the burden. He was amazed at the grace with which she did it, and it was so much easier because of that, but he longed to have her with him.

"Because I've been thinking," he said. "I told you I was looking around at a couple of the cottages, didn't I? Well, I think I could get one now, if I placed an offer."

Anna nodded. "I think you're right. We need to start from somewhere, certainly, and there's no use in waiting longer to buy our own home. It's best to have somewhere to go right away, I shouldn't like to trespass on Margaret's hospitality any longer than we must, and once we're married in two or three months, I'd like to settle right away."

"That's just it," John said, and he hesitated a moment before going on. "I've also spoken to the vicar."

Anna stopped dead. "Already?" she whispered.

"I think we can," he said, and a smile spread over his face. The mere thought of marrying Anna, of settling down, of freedom to live as they wished at last...

She half flung herself at him, and he wrapped her tightly in his arms. Laughter bubbled between them, and she kissed him fervently, all thoughts of hardship completely gone. They lived in their little bubble of joy for a minute, and it only calmed when, still chuckling, John jokingly asked her, "Does that mean you will?"

Then Anna seemed to pause, and think, and she slid out of his arms – and John wondered if he ought to worry. What could she mean? She wouldn't be playing those old tricks of hers, surely. No, certainly not. They were past that stage and John knew very well he had no right to dare think of such a thing in connection with her. His Anna – his she was once more – would be good to him, and would love him as dearly as he did her.

"When would it be?"

"Not more than two weeks, if we liked," John said. "I thought we could speak to the registrar today and take a common licence – after that we would be free to marry the moment we wished."

Anna nodded. "I can't throw up everything and leave without a word. I think I ought to give Mrs Hughes a proper explanation, at least."

"Mrs Hughes?" John gave her a somewhat startled look. "I don't think we owe _her_ anything."

Anna sighed. "I know, it sounds daft. But... don't you think it's strange, that she's been so against us?"

"Strange, yes," John conceded, "but not impossible. I suppose at the root of it all those housekeeper kin are alike."

"But there's much more to it," Anna told him earnestly. "It was just after you left, and she asked me if I was upset, and she told me that she went through the same thing. So I suppose she wasn't really against us at all."

John exhaled heavily. Women! Why must they suppose that one failed romance meant all romances would fail? Why must they always insist on being right? And how could Mrs Hughes, knowing him as she did, knowing what lengths he must have gone to in order to be free for Anna, believe he would be the same as whichever man had disappointed her?

He would think over that another time, he decided. A disconcerting thought regarding the identity of that man had just occurred to him and he wanted to push it far, far away. "Well, then, I suppose it's up to you."

"Can't you ever help me make a decision?" Anna huffed. But she couldn't help smiling at him, and marking her statement with a quick kiss, so he dared to suppose he was forgiven.

~0~

They were married six weeks later, a small service in the little Anglican church in Ripon, with only family and a few friends to witness them. Mr Carson and Mrs Hughes both came, and as he waited anxiously at the altar for Anna's arrival, John thought he saw that they were holding hands. He smiled – Anna had told him, on their next meeting, that the cause of their strict dealing of the two of them had stemmed from the troubles of their own relationship – or, rather, their lack thereof. Anna had caught them sharing a private moment, and they had taken that opportunity to thank her, so she said, for demonstrating that this sort of thing could work after all. John had decided that, nice as the little story was, he was going to think about that as little as possible. And it was his wedding day.

He'd never seen anything so beautiful as Anna, when she appeared in the doorway on her oldest brother's arm. If asked again, he could never have described anything, not her dress, or her hair or veil or anything, but just that beautiful look of exquisite happiness she was wearing was all he needed to see. The last year had been hard on her, hard on them both, and they did show signs of the difficulties. He had found his first grey hairs two weeks before leaving Downton. But she was happier than he had ever seen her, and he loved her so dearly. Finally he was able to give her something right – their wedding was perfect.

He was as nervous as she was that night. They had both been so brave, and he knew that she would be brave tonight, but he could see it in her eyes when they crossed into their new home together, and when he went to her in the evening he could see it in the way she shivered, sitting tense on the bed in a thin nightgown. And he was so afraid of doing something wrong and hurting her.

"Cold?" he asked, crossing the room and slowly removing his dressing gown. Her eyes widened a little when she saw the hairs of his chest above his shirt's neckline, but she only nodded a little, her dry lips shaping themselves around a "yes", but forming no sound. She smiled at him when he put the gown over her shoulders, and sighed a little when he did the same with his arm.

"I feel so stupid," she admitted, and his head jerked to face her.

"What on earth for?"

"After all we've come through. All the pain we've overcome, and I'm still so scared."

He pulled her hand up to kiss it, tightening his arm around her. "Me too," he admitted. He'd done more than he liked to say in his time, but he had never taken a virginity and he wasn't sure he knew how to make this easy for her. "But it will be alright, I promise. You know-" A horrible thought occurred to him. "You do know how this will go?"

"Yes," she said quietly. "And I know that it will mean a lot to you. I just hope I can do well enough. I know I've put you through a lot this year. I owe you this at least."

"_Never say that again_."

Anna looked up, startled, and John realised he had spoken sharply. "You don't owe me anything, and I don't ever want to hear you say that again," he told her, softening his tone. "If you don't want to do something, we won't."

"But... I'm your wife," she said slowly, as if trying to get her head around what he was saying. "Your satisfaction is my responsibility."

"And yours is mine." He could feel himself getting frustrated with her. How was that possible, even now? He thought he was past that, that they had overcome this anger together. That had been a benefit of his move to Knaresborough. They had needed a little time apart, hard as it was. They had learned to love one another more than ever, they had learned to forgive. But now he couldn't shake this frustration. He wanted to spend tonight with his wife, but he wanted to do it making her happy. Why couldn't she understand? She was looking at him, puzzled, and he didn't know quite what to say. A deep breath, and he took a shot. "Do you know that I love you?"

"Of course I do! John-" He held up a hand, and she fell silent.

"Then how could I possibly do anything that you wouldn't like, just for my own pleasure?"

After a long moment she nodded her understanding. "I will tell you, if I don't like something," she said, and he smiled and kissed her. "And," she continued, pushing him back gently after a moment's indulgence, "you must promise me the same. If we're to be equal, then you must be as equal as I am."

He had no idea that there could be any way he might possibly love her more. Things were only just beginning.

~o~

_And so ends Ending Things, with a beginning. Look at me, failing at being all poetical. Well, thank you very much for reading, reviewing, alerting and favouriting! I'm really excited that so many people have enjoyed this, it's been the most popular fic I've written and I think that, while flooded with flaws, it's also probably been the best. It's been a great learning curve, for certain, and I'm so grateful to you all for being part of that! *hugs* This has also proven great training for my next project, which I'm really excited about because it involves completely stepping away from my usual corner of the fandom and exploring characters which are less my usual poison. So, watch this space!_

_While I'm here, I'm going to be extremely cheeky and ask you to head on over to the Highclere Awards, if you haven't already, and place your votes for the best Downton fanfic out there! You'll find the relevant links on my profile, and it would be wonderful if more people could take part. Thank you so much, dudes, you rock! Much love for you all! xx_


End file.
